You Found Me
by SAVYandDANI
Summary: You found me when no one else was looking. How did you know just where I would be? I guess that you saw what nobody could see.


**Title: **You Found Me**  
><strong>**Disclaimer: **Pshaw. As if I own Harry Potter and the title of this story.**  
><strong>**Fandom:** Harry Potter**  
><strong>**Pairing: **Eventual Fred/OC**  
><strong>**Rating:** T  
><strong>Summary: <strong>You found me when no one else was looking. How did you know just where I would be? I guess that you saw what nobody could see.  
><strong>Notes: <strong>Hiya, Dani here. Yup. I wrote this. Bad, I know, but c'mon, it's been a while since I've written. You Found Me is based on the song by Kelly Clarkson. It doesn't really seem like a Harry Potter fic, but wait for the next few chapters. The main character is a Muggle, if that clears things up. Please review! Reviews are love, and I need love. I'm a lonely girl. Most of the situations are rather short, and for that I apologize. BUT REVIEW IF YOU CAN PLEASE. REVIEWS MEAN THE WORLD TO ME.

**Chapter One:**  
>In Which They Meet<p>

I've always been the girl that was never seen. I was the one everyone ignored. The only reason for this, as my "friends" often reminded me, was the fact that I couldn't see myself. In other words, yes, I'm blind. As a bat. As in, I have no sight whatsoever.

Maybe I should start with my life story and all that shit. Name: Kimberly Manson. Age: 20.

I was born to my parents, Julia and Matthew, on January 1, 1979. They loved me like a normal couple loves their only child. I was, as they called me, a "miracle child," because my mum and dad had been trying to get pregnant for years. They were married for seven years when they had me. After I was born, it was discovered that my mum could never conceive or bear children at risk of death.

The only hitch to this "miracle child" situation was that I was born blind. I couldn't see my mum or dad, so I cried all the time. No, shrieked is the word. I had no idea what was happening around me, and I'm a control freak, so it was like I had no control over the situation. Of course, I was a baby, so I really never had any control in the first place.

When I was born, the nurse handed me to Mum and Mum gasped. My eyes were glazed over, making the blue irises seem white. I reached up and tugged my mum's hair; it was damp and frizzy. She grunted in pain but still brushed her fingers over my fat baby face, as though she loved me. I guess it was because she actually _did_ love me. As did my dad. They loved me, and that was all that mattered.

According to my parents, I was a beautiful baby. I already had jet black hair growing by the time I was a week old, they said. Apparently, my eyes are hazel, but with the milky glaze, hardly visible. I was small, delicate, dainty, they told me. A pretty little thing. I was kind of embarrassed at their description. I figured it was just a parent's description of their daughter, the most beautiful creature in the world. People around me also called me small and delicate and dainty. A pretty little thing. Again.

* * *

><p>As I grew up, I realized that my blindness prevented me from doing things my friends did. I was five when the realization struck.<p>

I distinctly remember my friend, Olivia, yelling "Kimberly! Come on! Race with me!"

I tried to comply, but I crashed into a tree soon after and burst into tears. Olivia laughed but then realized the tears were real, as was my pain. She rushed over to comfort me and hugged me as tightly as possible. I sniffled and hugged back just as tightly. We were to the point of suffocating each other when my dad came out from the sliding doors of our house.

"What happened here?" he asked. Olivia explained everything as quickly as she could and my dad said that maybe it was best if she went home. Olivia whined, but eventually agreed. My mum came out to the yard and led her away, telling my dad that she'd take my friend home. I just sat there, eyes blank, tears still running down my face. My dad scooped me up in his arms and carried me inside until we reached the sofa. He plopped down and started to tickle my stomach.

I shrieked with laughter and accidentally decked him in the jaw. He immediately stopped tickling me and I felt him rub his chin. "Sorry," I muttered.

Dad chuckled and said, "Nothing to be sorry for Kimmy." I felt less guilty.

* * *

><p>People all over the countryside knew about my...affliction. I never knew that such a large place could have news about one little girl could spread so quickly. People came over all the time, pitying me, asking me what it was like to not see the world at all. I often got angry at the world, at God, even, because I was blind. These people were coming into our home and asking me personal questions, which my parents allowed. I felt greatly betrayed. Why would they let them invade my privacy?<p>

People couldn't see me for me. They saw me as this delicate flower that couldn't be touched. They saw me as the little blind girl. It seemed like they thought I had no feelings. But I did have feelings. I felt hurt, angry, betrayed, depressed, happy at the attention, rebellious, and loved all at the same time. Sometimes I thought I would burst with all of the emotions building up inside me. I was only six for God's sake.

I eventually found solace in friends who sympathized for me. They didn't pity me, they just saw me. That is, until I found out that they were talking about me behind my back. I heard a rumor fly around school, calling me a bitch who wanted everyone's attention and pity. I was a charity case, an attention-whore. I was a backstabber who used any means to get her way. The words stung like hydrogen peroxide on an open wound. I wasn't any of these things at all. Well, bitch, maybe. Rebellious and independent, yes. But an attention-whore? A charity case? That wasn't me at all.

The sanctuary I built around myself was invaded by bullies and taunts. Tears always found their way to my eyes every day for two years. I never told my parents anything. I didn't tell my teachers either. I figured that no one would really care or they would just pity me even further than they already did. I regret it to this day, actually.

The bullying finally stopped in my second year of high school. Olivia had come to my rescue, though she was one of the ones who spread the rumors about me.

"Leave her the bloody hell alone! She didn't do anything do deserve this," she snarled at a pair of particularly menacing girls. I'd actually gotten death threats from them. I was terrified for my life. They said they'd jump me in an alley or something if I ever told a soul about what they said to me. I swore that I wouldn't tell anyone. That changed when Olivia rescued me.

The two bullies stalked off, yelling that they'd get me. I sank down to the ground against the wall, sobs wracking my body. Olivia came to my side again, like she had when we were five. She hugged me gently and whispered, "It's okay Kim." I tried my hardest to believe her. I hugged her back softly and wondered what had happened between us. Why had we been so vicious to each other until now?

"Ollie?" I whispered. Olivia answered with a "hmm?" and I sniffed. "Why are you being so nice to me? I thought you hated me."

She chuckled softly. "I don't. Sweetie, you're my best friend. I can't just leave you to defend yourself, especially with those girls."

Tears slid further down my cheek. Those words sounded so heartfelt. It seemed as if I had my best friend back. Ollie pulled away and helped me up to my feet. She walked with me all the way home. Along the way, she asked what the girls did that made me cry like that. "I mean, you're usually so strong," she explained.

I sighed and replied, "They threatened to kill me."

Olivia gasped. "Why would they do that?"

"Gee, I dunno," I replied, sarcastic and somewhat bitter, "why would they? Maybe all the rumors that have flown all over school for the past two years?"

Ollie sighed. "I'm sorry. I really am. I never should have done that. I was jealous, Kim. I was jealous of all the attention that you got. I wanted to make you hurt, to make you suffer. I was wrong." She sniffed and said, "Can you ever forgive me?"

I softened. "I already have, Liv." I felt for her, and when I found her, I hugged her tightly. She hugged me back tighter than she ever had.

When we got to my house, she walked me up the steps and unlocked the door for me. I told her that I could do it myself, since I'd done it so many times, but she refused to let me. "I'm trying to make up for what I did," she said loftily. I snorted and said whatever. I grinned then. I really did have my best friend back.

* * *

><p>I guess that I'd started to trust Olivia again too soon. Before I knew it, we were back to our old habits. We were at each other's throats two weeks after that fateful day. She told all of her friends that I was such a sucker, that I was an idiot.<p>

After that, I resolved for homeschooling. I didn't even want to know if she told the girls who threatened my life. Eventually, people just forgot about me. I was no one, just the breeze, just the leaves on the ground. No one noticed me.

My parents felt sorry for me, as per usual. My mum gave up her job so she could teach me in safety. She taught me in Braille, and I did my assignments in Braille. I was an exceptional student, especially when I was in an environment I was familiar with. As long as no furniture was moved, I could get around perfectly.

I spent my days in the house and my dad was worried about me. When I graduated from high school, he took me camping; to get some fresh air, he said. I was terrified. I couldn't see anything, how the hell was I going to survive in the forest for a week, even if I had my dad?

When we got to the campsite, my dad sighed and said, "Well, we're here."

"So it would seem, Dad."

He got out of the car and opened my door. I unbuckled myself and stepped out onto the crunching earth.

He led me over to a stream and helped me sit down so I could relax while he pitched the tent. I protested at first, but relented at his stern tone. "I'm going to pitch the tent. I'll bring you back when I'm done, all right?"

I nodded and sighed as I heard leaves and gravel crunch behind me, signaling that Dad had gone to our tent. Minutes later, I heard crunching again. I turned around and asked, "Dad? Are you done already?"

An amused voice pierced my eardrums. "Do I look like a dad?"

"How would I know?"

_Crunch. _The owner of the voice must have stepped closer to me. I followed the sound of the footsteps until I heard the owner slide on the gravel and plop down on the ground. "Well, you're looking- whoa."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "What?"

"Your eyes..."

I narrowed my eyes and crossed my arms. "Yes, they're glazed over. Let's throw a party."

"Why are they like that?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm blind."

"Oh. That would explain it."

Sighing, I said, "Why don't you just go back to wherever you came from and leave me alone?"

The owner of the voice, a young man by what his voice sounded like, chuckled. "I'd rather not."

I buried my face in my hands and asked, "Why not?"

"Well," he started, "I've never met a blind person. I'd like to see-" I stopped paying attention at _see._

"You mean you want to pity me?" I accused, lifting my face out of my hands.

"No! That's not what I meant."

"What exactly did you mean then?" I was getting more and more defensive with each word.

"How about we start over?" he suggested, sounding slightly exasperated, though mostly amused.

"Of course we can," I answered, smiling sweetly. "You can go back to your campsite and I'll pretend I never heard you."

"I was thinking more of a 'Hey, I'm so-and-so. What's your name?' kind of thing."

I sighed. Obviously this guy wasn't going to be deterred. "Fine. I'm Kimberly Manson. Who the hell are you?"

The young man tutted at me. "Is that really how you ask someone what their name is?"

"Only when they get on my nerves," I said airily.

Soft chuckling followed my reply. "I like you, Kimberly. I'm Fred Weasley."

A snort threatened to erupt. "Forgive me, but what kind of surname is Weasley?"

"What kind of surname is Manson?"

"Touché." I laughed.

"Why're you laughing? I mean, I know that I'm hilarious, but I haven't even said anything relevant yet."

I bit my bottom lip as I tried to stop myself from laughing. "I really have no idea," I said, every other word punctuated with a giggle. I calmed myself down, or, at least, tried to.

It seemed like Fred honestly had no clue as to why I was laughing so much; I didn't either. I think that the main reason I was laughing was that I had become pretty unhinged what with all that happened to me in the past few years. The other reason was that I had probably become a slight, tiny, itty bitty bit nervous. I acted as normally and me-like as possible. I think I succeeded.

We sat in silence for a bit.

"Could you describe yourself for me?" I asked after a few minutes.

I could hear Fred's grin in his voice. "Well, I'm funny, charming, outgoing-"

"I mean what you look like."

"Oh, right. I knew that. I'm a redhead-"

I gasped mockingly. "My God! I'm sitting with a ginger!"

Fred snorted. "Yep. Shall I continue now?"

Grinning, I said, "But of course."

"I'm a redhead, I have blue eyes, and I'm devilishly handsome. Oh, and I'm pretty damn sexy if I do say so myself."

"I'll have to take your word for it, won't I?"

We laughed together for a moment. Time stopped.

"I guess you will."

I sighed softly. "Could you describe me please?"

"What you look like, you mean?" I nodded. "Well, you have really dark hair and your eyes are, er, glazed over as you know. You're rather pretty." I felt heat rush to my face. "Even when you're blushing."

Smiling, I said, "Thank you." We sat in an companionable silence until I heard calls of "Fred! Where are you?"

Fred sighed and said, "I have to go. Maybe we could meet here tomorrow so we can get to know each other a bit?"

I bit my lip and replied, "I guess so. I mean, if you're here."

"Great," he said jovially. More calls. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow then."

"I suppose you will."

I really didn't know it then, but that camping trip would end up to be the best thing to ever happen to me.


End file.
